Burlington

We wake up to the perfect blue summer's day. The Hotel Vermont is a five minute walk to Lake Champlain

The walk along the lake front is stunning, with the Adirondack mountains as a back drop.

The hotel is also a five minute walk to the city centre, which teems with life, street theatre, and people just sitting in the sun drinking fresh lemonade.

And then just five minutes in another direction is the Farmers' Market:

We did try the wine, but...well, we're kiwis and we have high expectations where wine is concerned.

But we did like the name of the winery. All is all, though, Burlington was a delight. We sat in the sun at the market and looked forward to the afternoon, when we were going down, at last, to the cottage in North Ferrisburgh.

No room at the inn

 

Our last weekend in NZ (for a while) was certainly a time of whanau and friends. After the wedding on Saturday, Sunday had a special sweetness to it. Jane and Digby and Bill prayed with us during the morning service at CB. Ed and Anna came for lunch on their way back to Wellington from Whanganui, and then Jenah and James came over to tell us the wonderful news of their engagement, and share stories about their travels. At 4.50pm, I offloaded them at the bus to head back to Wellington (I'm not staying to wave goodbye - I will cry") and had a sudden yearning to go to the 5pm service at All Saints - what better way to calm my nerves than the words of the prayer book? It was a restful, quiet service, with a visiting organist, friends. John Hornblow caught sight of me at the end of the service and invited the congregation to pray for me, and friends clustered around. Then to Grandma and Grandad's for fish and chips, where we managed to laugh despite our imminent departure.

Monday morning and we were off to Pukekohe (with me still giving Andy last minute instructions about the dogs - he is very forbearing) and a day with Bain and Lorraine, hearing about their African Safari, the girls chatting with their favourite Pukekohe friend, Mrs Roberts.

And then the long journey began. What is there to say about a 13 hour flight to Los Angeles except that the flight was full? I was glad to stay a night in Los Angeles where we visited the Griffith Observatory at sunset, had dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, and studied the celebrity stars on the sidewalk (translation in my head: pavement-footpath-sidewalk). "Who ARE all these people?" said Lizzy, puzzling over the names on the stars.

Back to the airport. Can I sing the praises of Jet blue? I have flown United across the US before and was dreading the flight. But the flight was fast, and the plane clean and roomy, good food, excellent distractions, humorous and charming staff. We were supposed to have an hour between landing in New York and getting on a plane to Burlington, but as we got into the terminal they were calling the final boarding call. We ran - and got there just as they were closing the flight.

So we landed in Burlington at about 12.30am to find the airport all but deserted, one bag missing, and suddenly I was overwhelmed with emotion. It all crashed in on me: the loveliness and joy of Anne-Marie's wedding, the emotion of saying goodbye to my parents, worries about work that have plagued me for months, the weeks and weeks of daily lists to do the work of packing up family and work, and the overwhelming sense that this thing i had worked hard for and dreamed of for years was suddenly here, bowled me over completely.

We got in the taxi and drove through dark and mysterious streets, trying to glimpse our new home, to our hotel. Landed at the feet of two young and delightful check-in girls at the Hotel Vermont: to find they weren't expecting us. The booking had been somehow stuffed up - they were expecting us in the middle of the next night - and there was no room at the inn. In fact, no room at the inn anywhere in Burlington. they rang hotels, resorts, guest houses: nothing. The only possible place was a two hour drive away. 

But, looking at our aghast faces, they came up with a plan. They took us to a meeting room, made up beds from mountains of pillows on the floor, brought me camomile tea, and generally tucked us in. I will remember their kindness, their delight as they solved the puzzle, as they brought up the trolley laden with every pillow and duvet they could find in the hotel. And so that was our first night in Burlington: sleeping on pillows, struck by the kindness of the first Vermonters we had met.

A Happy Day

 It was an unusual wedding. Unicorns and hoola hoops were on the guest list. The bride wore forget-me-not blue and wove her dreadlocks into a french plait.

All brides - one would hope - are happy. But none, I think, could have been happier than my sister.

My parents beamed with pride, as parents do on these occasions.

And the sun smiled too. John and Anne-Marie stood on the wild west coast beach in a glorious sunset, with Mount Taranaki appearing out of the mist.

Of course, it wouldn't have been Anne-Marie's wedding if the guests hadn't spent time with their hoola hoops.

It seems impossible to write about a wedding without resorting to cliches. But, for my family, this was a day we will never forget, a rare chance to bring the family all together (though we all felt Rose's absence), a day of simple happiness. Anne-Marie and John, we wish you a wonderful life together.

Favourite places: Massey campus

I work on the most beautiful campus in New Zealand. Bruce tells me the campus is so beautiful because it was planted by plant specialists rather than park specialists. This means it  is full of unusual established plants - both natives and imported varieties. Every season has its own loveliness here. In spring the place is a blaze  of blossom and the sweet scents of native bushes; in summer it has a remarkable lush greenness; in autumn the colours are ever changing; in winter the big trees are stretched out starkly against a clear winter sky.

                                          the only time in ever snowed in Palmerston North - August 2011

Because I have been a student or worked here since 1978, I've grown up with some of these trees. My memories are part of this place. My children have run through the gardens, the arboretum, have boogy-boarded down and played pooh-sticks in the Turitea stream. Our various dogs have run through the bush here and swum in the stream.

                                          Emily, Lizzy, Finn and Harris play pooh sticks

                                                    Rose, Ed and Ben in the Turitea stream

Whatever I'm feeling about the politics of working in a university, whatever the day will bring, as I drive into Massey in the morning through the avenue of plane trees, I always feel the delight: I work in this lovely garden,and in some ways it is mine.

Favourite people: Friends from home

Today was spent in a whirr of activity. We're packing. So far it's going suspiciously well. Our bags look well under weight, but I cannot believe this will last. What have I forgotten?

Although the day has been hectic, it has had good moments. I was up with the larks (do we have larks in NZ?) to meet up with my lovely housegroup at Tomato in George Street. This may be the last time we all get together: by the time I return, Jane will have headed down to Wellington to become Deanette (her word, not mine) of the Wellington Cathedral. We struggled to find a time to meet - Sue was away for most of the week, and most evenings seemed to be occupied for someone. So we met for breakfast. Being out of the house and alert at 7am (I'm often walking the boys at this time, but that doesn't call for alertness) was a novel experience. But we all managed it:

I explained, during the photo-taking session that in my family we always took a Serious Photo where Sternness and Don't-Mess-With-Me attitudes were required. And you wouldn't mess with this lot, would you (especially Sue!):

                                                  Jane, of course, being a 7, doesn't do Serious.

Other friends I've been catching up with over the last week, do serious in photos very easily:

Actually, Gordon was saying "you're not seriously going to take a photo, are you?" Gordon and I have lunch every Monday and I will miss our conversations about food, books, movies, DVDs, church and the on-going debate about Game of Thrones (he loves it, I hate it).

Susan is my friend of more than 20 years, and I love the Saturdays when we meet up at the Elm for lunch. Susan always has the kedgeree, while I experiment with different dishes.She always has a glass of wine, but I know my Saturday would be over if I did the same.

Another person we will miss very much is Pete, who comes for dinner most weeks, and who brings new words, immense knowledge about the natural world, always interesting conversation, and pistachio nuts to the dinner table.

                                          No, I don't know what they're doing here. 

And we have happy times out at his place in the Pohangina Valley, where he makes a mean scone, and we get to sit on the porch and talk about Moomins and watch the wood pigeons.

                                           
This photo was taken on a sunny afternoon with Pete in the valley  - and Robbie (another good friend from way back who is now living in Norway) joined us that day.

Pete's blog and photo blog  are listed under the links on this blog. Check out his beautiful photos of the Valley.

These are the friends I see most weeks and will miss while we're away - and who it will be lovely to come home to.





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Favourite places: The Manawatu River

Most weeks I manage to take the dogs for a walk along the river. The Manawatu river would never count as one of the most beautiful rivers in New Zealand. It's sluggish, slow, with none of the remarkable colour or grandeur of, say, the Waikato River. But it's a good place to walk, and every season and time of day brings its own particular delights.

The dogs find much to explore, especially along the stony shoreline. And there is nothing quite as joyful as a dog off his or her leash!

                                        Finn and Harris with their new friend, Hunter.

One of the places I love: The farm

When Bruce bought these 12 acres, about 15 years ago, it was bare land except for 5 large old pine trees. Over the years he has collected seed, grown seedlings in our back garden, and planted out hundreds of trees. When the girls were small he would take them out in a backpack to help him collect the seed. Now it's a place of beauty, and when I walk there I think "every plant and tree was grown by Bruce". We even have an orchard, though the possums have been stealing all the fruit.

It's a place of family memories. We get our Christmas tree from here, we often go out there on Christmas Day or Boxing Day with the whole family and our picnic baskets and bottles of wine. When we return from Vermont, my hope is that we will plant a small cottage on this land, so we can stay there in weekends. Last summer it was so lovely out there that every time we visited I thought "I want to wake up here". Perhaps in Vermont we will get ideas about what that cottage should look like.

                           Anna's photo of an expedition to get the family Christmas tree